


Fire

by PinkPandorafrog



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aromantic, Consensual Non-Consent, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-04-02 07:11:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4050955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkPandorafrog/pseuds/PinkPandorafrog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy finally has an actual assignment now that she's working for SHIELD. Her new partner is kinda intense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Darcy sat at the table in the small room, arms folded under her breasts, one knee crossed over the other, her dangling foot jiggling impatiently. SHIELD had finally decided to actually do something with her, probably because they were getting a little tired of her around the base. Not that they said it to her face, but she was generally considered useless. She was apparently going to have a 'partner,' who probably unofficially was going to be more someone there to keep her out of the way and out of trouble.

She let out a long sigh. She'd been here for a while, her patience was quickly waning. No one had bothered to tell her anything, of course, just that she was supposed to show up in this specific room and wait for her new best friend. It sure was super awesome how SHIELD was treating her like she was a fucking burden. Fuckers. It wasn't like they'd had to hire her.

The door opened, and she looked up at it, prepared to be completely underwhelmed. Her eyebrows went up as a dark-haired man entered, looking equally as put-out as she was.

“Well.” He was dressed the same as all SHIELD field people seemed to- all in black with a t-shirt that looked maybe a size too small (not that she was looking, of course, but she was totally looking), an army's worth of pockets on his pants, heavy boots. Although he had some sort of harness crossing over his chest, probably to turn him into some kind of walking arsenal or something. “Who'd you piss off?”

His eyebrows drew together as he looked down at her. “What?” His voice was kinda gravelly, and she was tempted to think that he was more amused than anything else.

“I don't know how much you were told about me, but from what I gather, working with me is basically tantamount to being shipped off to a remote outpost in Alaska.” She shrugged. “So I hear, anyway. So I figure, you have to have pissed someone off, and now you're stuck with me.” Her eyes studied his face for a second. “Who was it?”

She knew entirely too much to be allowed to just be free out there in the civilian world. SHIELD couldn't just make her disappear, because she was friends with Thor and Jane, who were valuable assets. They could bring her in under the auspices of giving her a job, which they'd done, but it was... Not what she'd expected.

This guy, though, he looked like he actually did stuff. Like, actual stuff. This was going to be... interesting.

“I'm here because I have a reputation for being able to get results.” His eyes moved over her, impersonal, evaluating. “I was told that you're a little difficult to work with.”

“Really?” Darcy made a face. “That's funny, 'cause no one's actually tried to work with me. I've sort of been shuffled around all the departments because no one wants to do anything with me.” Not that she was bitter or anything.

An eyebrow arched, and he hooked his foot around the leg of the chair opposite her, pulling it out before sitting down. His arms folded in front of him, and that was... Nice. Good view. Not that she was looking. “I wasn't told a whole lot about you. Just that you're smart, you're good with computers, and you're a pain in the ass.”

“Oh, see...” She shook her head. “No. Having me here is a pain in the ass. You look like a field guy. Right? They just want me out of their hair. I wouldn't be surprised if we actually end up in Alaska, stalking polar bears or something.”

His lips twitched up into a smirk. “Really? Coulson was sounded pretty impressed with you.”

“Phil Coulson?” Well. That was a surprise and a half. “Really? Huh.” She shook her head, sitting back in her chair and watching the man across from her. “So what's the plan?”

“Well, Agent Lewis-”

She brought up her hand to cut him off. “Darcy.” Oh no. There was going to be no _Agent Lewis_ anywhere in her general vicinity.

His lips twitched with amusement. “Darcy. I'm going to train you enough to keep you alive in the field, and then we do whatever SHIELD needs us to do.”

She stared at him for a second, lips pursed. “I'm not killing anyone.” Best to get that out in the open before training started.

“You won't have to.” The unspoken, ' _because that's what I'm here for_ ,” hung in the air between them. He looked completely capable of just straight-up murdering someone with his bare hands, too. Where did SHIELD even find these guys? It was tempting to ask. She didn't remember seeing him in New Mexico, which meant SHIELD had a legion of badasses just kicking around and waiting for stuff to do. That thought was actually a little scary.

So, wait. Was he her team leader or something? Was there a team she was going to meet at some point? “Just the two of us?”

“Yeah. Covert ops.”

That was... interesting. Like, it had taken a whole fucking team to steal lab equipment from one tiny scientist. So either this guy was just super elite, or they were overestimating Darcy's skills a _whole_ lot. Or both.

Probably both.

She shot him a look. “Does not compute. Look at you, you're all, 'I can kill you with my pinkie,' over there, and you don't even have a weapon on you. There's nothing _covert_ about you.”

He smirked at that, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards. “I'm all about stealth. If we do something where someone's going to need to blend in...” He gestured to her with one hand. “That'll be you.”

She licked her lips, staring across the table at him. He was so fucking convinced about this whole plan, it was kinda... scary. “I'm gonna die, aren't I? This is SHIELD's big plan to bump me off, get me out of the equation without it actually being their fault.”

His expression was very serious as he regarded her, any trace of amused smirks just completley gone like they'd never even been there. “I'll consider it a personal failure if you die. Just do what I say, you'll make it out okay.”

“Yeah, I bet you say that to all the girls.” There was a gleam in his eye that suggested that maybe he _did_ say that to all the girls, and didn't this assignment suddenly get a lot more interesting? “So, what do you mean by training?” A change of subject seemed like the safest bet.

“How to shoot, how to run, hand-to-hand. Most of what you'll be doing out there are things you already know how to do, or so I've been told. I just need to teach you to get yourself out of a tight situation.” That all sounded reasonable. Except the running part. Because fuck running.

His eyes were focused directly on her, no looking away or glancing around the room. Dude was intense. “I was told you've been given basic medical training.”

She nodded. That had actually been the only useful thing she felt she'd done since she'd arrived at the sprawling base. “Yup. Stitches, compression bandages, how to deal with glass-related injuries.” It hadn't made much sense at the time, but if she was going to be part of a two-person field team... Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him, realizing that he hadn't actually introduced himself at any point. “What's... What's your name? Since you know mine and everything.”

“Rumlow. Brock Rumlow.”

Darcy grinned at that, couldn't help it. “Like Bond, James Bond? I'm totally calling you Brock, just last names always seem a little dudebro to me.” And there was no way in hell she was calling anyone Agent anything. She paused for a second, eyebrows going up incredulously. “Seriously, though, Brock? Why didn't your parents just name you Manly McChesthair or something?”

He stilled, the absolute stillness of a fucking predator or something like that. For a second, for just a second, she was worried that he was going to come across the table and... do something. What, she wasn't entirely sure. But then he relaxed, and a grin split his own face. “I like a little bit of fire, means you fight harder.”

Well. Whatever _that_ meant.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Brock was a very hands-on trainer. Like, literally, constantly having his hands on her. Not in an inappropriate way, but, like... he'd put his hands on her shoulders or her back at the gun range, or he would grab her leg to show her about her stride or whatever.

But Darcy couldn't deny that he was excellent at getting results. It wasn't very long before he pronounced her fit for the field. Which, of course, led to a final “graduation” training mission. She was sitting on the bed in his tiny bunk, looking at the small array of equipment he'd spread out in front of her. She'd already gotten a brand new laptop and had set it up the way she wanted it.

“Earpiece. You'll be able to communicate directly with me, with no chance of being overheard.” It looked like a standard Bluetooth thing, only slightly more... Reinforced? “This is a non-lethal weapon, since I know how you feel about killing.” There was a smirk at that. “It uses a dendrotoxin to incapacitate rather than kill.” He gestured to the last pile of black. “Body armor and holster. Unless you're going to be blending in, I want you wearing those at all times.”

She'd actually been fitted for both, Like actualfax custom-fitted. “Excellent.” She reached into the backpack- black and non-descript blue- that housed her laptop, and pulled out a ball of yarn with a metal hook sticking through it.

“Knitting?” He genuinely looked confused.

“Uh, crochet?” As though _that_ should have been obvious. “I concentrate better when I have a physical distraction.”

His brown eyes fixed on the yarn for a second before he looked up at her, one eyebrow raised. “You're shitting me.”

“I'm not. Fidgeting looks anxious and makes noise. This just looks like I'm following a pattern on my computer.” She shrugged. “Thor would braid my hair sometimes, but something tells me you're not really a hair-braiding kinda guy. Not to mention that most of the time we'll probably not be in the same general vicinity as each other.”

He still looked skeptical, but he didn't say anything to contradict her. His gaze followed her movements as she put the yarn back and picked up the earpiece, fitting it into her ear. That had also been custom-fitted for her. So many measurements! “There's one more thing.”

“Yeah? What's that?” Earpiece in, Darcy stood up and reached for the holster. It was a thigh-holster that she'd be able to easily reach both sitting and standing.

He watched her strap the thing on. “We might need to get intimate sometimes.”

She clicked the final buckle into place and looked up at him, eyebrows rising in disbelief. “Get intimate?” He couldn't be serious.

“Fuck.” He looked absolutely serious. “Close to it, anyway.”

She stopped putting gear on and rested her hands on her hips. He was standing by the end of the bed, and she stared up at him for a second before shaking her head. “You're making shit up.”

“Why do you think they asked you what you're into?”

There'd been a question on her entrance questionnaire about sexual orientation. And, like, not multiple choice so much as, 'put yourself on the Kinsey scale.' “Okay. Why the actual fuck would we need to do that?”

“We make out, no one's gonna be able to see our faces very well.” Okay, that was actually a good point. Darcy remembered hearing about a movie where the actor's wife had filled in for the lead actress in one scene and no one had really noticed. “And most people don't want to see that happening right in front of them.” Which was another really good point.

“Okay. That all makes sense to me.” She leaned over to grab the gun off the bed, checking it before she slid it into the holster. “But you said fuck. Not make out like teenagers.”

“We might need to go undercover. Be under surveillance. Nothing gets rid of surveillance faster than noisy sex.” Brock still looked serious.

She rested her hands on her hips again, looking up at him. “Is this where you tell me we need to practice so we can be convincing?”

His eyes moved over her, more than a little appreciation shining through. “No. But if you're offering...”

She rolled her eyes. The body armor wasn't comfortable. It felt kinda like she was being compressed from the top down, and not in a _good_ way. But she got it on, all zipped on, and made a face as she looked over at Brock. “I don't know how you're always wearing yours, this sucks.”

“I don't have tits.” He gave her a pointed look, one eyebrow raised, the hint of a smirk on his lips.

“Yeah, I'm not going to, either, if I have to wear this thing too often.” She ran her hands over the rigid line of the body armor, it was worse than a fucking corset. But if it was going to keep her safe...

Darcy reached down and picked up the strap of her backpack, hefting it over her shoulder. “All set, boss.” She watched him finish strapping on his own gear, his was a lot more practiced at it than she was. Then again, he'd been doing this shit for _years_.

He tapped his earpiece, and suddenly she had an echo of the goings-on in the room in her right ear. “You can leave it hot, or you can make it voice-activated.” He tapped it again, and the echo went away.

Darcy reached up and felt along the cool surface of her own earpiece for the button, pressing it twice. “Are we staying on base, or do we get to take a field trip for this?”

“We'll be here. Just remember, the agents we'll be facing will be using non-lethal weapons as well, and they won't hesitate to use them.” His dark eyes moved over her face. “Don't get knocked out, or we're fucked.”

“Thanks for that.” She watched him check his weapons, then he lifted a challenging eyebrow at her. “What happens if I get knocked out? I mean... You know, the being fucked thing.”

“More training. Which I know you're just real excited about.” He smirked as Darcy made a face. “As soon as we get there, the exercise is live, so if there's anything you want to know, now's the time.” When she shook her head, he gestured to the door, and she went to it and opened it, stepping out into the hallway.

They ended up in a part of the base Darcy had never seen before. It was kinda warehousey, and there was a building _in_ the building. Whatever. They were SHIELD.

But the second they got there, Brock's whole demeanor changed, and it was kinda fascinating to watch. He walked a little lighter on his feet, moving like some kind of deadly cat. His firearm was up in front of him like he meant fucking business, and she stayed well back as he approached a side door.

She was staying to the side, hugging the wall with her shoulder, eyes trained ahead to where he'd gone into the building.

“Come on,” she heard low in her ear, and she moved towards the side door as quickly as she could without making a whole lot of noise.

There was a woman unconscious on the floor, and Darcy looked at him for a second before moving through what looked like a small control room. She took the swiveling office chair and pulled it into a corner, back against the wall. Her backpack went on the floor beside her feet, laptop out in her lap where she had one foot tucked under the opposite knee, and a ballpoint pen in her hand. She went to work on their security system, clicking the pen in and out as she waited. Okay, seriously. The body armor was not okay. She was looking forward to being able to breathe again at some point. Too bad it wasn't any time soon.

“Darcy.” And didn't he just sound like a bundle of sunshine.

She didn't even look up at him. “Unless you're going to get over here and braid my hair, guess how many fucks I give about what you think about my fidgeting.”

She saw him moving out of the top of her field of vision. He'd been half-sitting on the edge of the console-desk-thing watching the inside door, but he was making his way over to her. She did look up when he crouched down beside her, his hand settling over the back of the calf that was dangling to the floor. “What-”

“If you don't stop, I'm going to shoot you.” Brock didn't actually sound like he was joking, either. She raised her eyebrows as he drummed his fingers on the back of her leg. “This help?”

“You are a gentleman and a scholar. Well...” She shrugged before turning her attention back to her computer and resting the pen along the top of it, out of the way by the screen. “You're actually neither of those things, but yes. That helps.”

“Really?” His fingers dug into her leg.

“You're not stupid, obviously, but...” She squinted at the screen for a second. “Your genius seems more that of a tactician than someone who spends a lot of time in a library. Otherwise...” She tapped a key with a flourish and turned the screen so he could see. “I wouldn't be here.”

He looked over the screen. She had the schematics up, and had tapped into the security cameras. “Not bad.” He was already getting to his feet, moving for the door that would let him into the main part of the building.

Darcy unlocked it for him, the latch loud in the room. “I'll talk you through.” She hit the button for her earpiece twice so that it would activate on the sound of her voice, otherwise he'd probably come back to shoot her for clicking her pen.

With one last look at her, he pulled the door open and advance into the hallway beyond, gun ready in front of him.

For her, the job was actually fairly boring from this point. She had to guide him through the building to his objective, which was a hostage on one of the upper levels. A lot of _left_ , _right_ , _there's three guys waiting behind that door_.

“Hang on...” Something on one of the security cameras caught Darcy's attention. “There's someone coming towards my door.”

“You okay?” Brock sounded... Mostly confident that she'd be able to handle it, but there was a little bit of concern in there as well.

“Mmhmm.” She locked the door again, but a noise at the _outside_ door had her drawing her gun. Moving as quietly as she could, she settled down on the floor, laptop in front of her, using the solid cabinet in front of her for cover. Her gun came out, held tightly in her hand as she tried to _will_ her heartrate to slow down.

She'd trained for this, but she'd never actually fired on another person before. She watched the bright red door ease silently open, and she took a deep breath. Adrenaline flooded her as the gun came into view first. The rest of the person came into view seemingly in slow motion, and she eased the gun forward. He _wasn't_ in body armor, so it was an easy shot. She aimed at the center of his chest and fired just as his eyes landed on her.

He fell. Darcy let out a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding, realizing that she'd been gritting her teeth hard enough that her jaw felt sore.

“Status?” came over her earpiece.

“All clear.” Her voice was a little higher than usual, but... She'd never _actually_ shot someone before. Someone who wouldn't have hesitated to shoot her. With _actual_ live ammunition. But now, of course, she had other things to do. And the dude was _heavy_ , she found out as she pulled him out of the doorway. “What the fuck did you have for breakfast this morning?” she muttered, and heard Brock's answering snort.

“I need a direction.”

“Yeah, well you need to wait until I get this asshole out of the door.” Her strain came through into her words as she rolled him over by the body of the woman who was still prone on the floor. The red door was closed, locked, and Darcy was shaking a little as she regained her seat, pulling her laptop back up into her lap.

She squinted at the screen, locating where her partner was in the building. “Left to the end, then up the stairs.”

“You good?”

“Yup.” Her heart was racing, her palms were sweating, and she felt so tense that she'd snap if someone flicked her, but... Still conscious. Yeah. Good. She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, stopping herself from gritting her teeth again.

The rest of the op went pretty seamlessly. Brock shot some guys, rescued the hostage, got back to her, and all three got out. It wasn't until after their debriefing that she slumped against the wall, letting herself slide down until her butt hit the carpet.

Brock nudged the bottom of her purple Converse with the toe of one boot. “You did good.”

“Yeah. I'm just...” Wound up. She still felt like she was going to snap, so tense that her head was starting to ache. “How do you deal with this part?” Because there hadn't been any training on that.

“Drink. Fuck. Beat the shit out of a punching bag. Or any combination of the three.” He paused, smirking a little as he looked down at her. “Any preferences?”

She closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the wall. “You're asking me to think. Stop that.”

He nudged her foot again, and Darcy opened her eyes to see his hand extended down to her. “You did good. I'll buy you a drink.” He hauled her to her feet, his hand moving to linger over her back as he led her down the hall.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have had this half-written out forever. So... All written out now!


	3. Chapter 3

Darcy glanced over at her partner. He was mostly dressed, just standing in front of the full-length mirror and scowling at his bow tie. She grinned. It was rare that she got to see him tackling something he wasn't familiar with, and she took a perverse kind of thrill from it. “Hey. Zip me up, and I'll help you out with that.”

His dark eyes came away from the mirror and he moved across the thick carpet to her. She pulled her long hair up and out of the way, turning to give him access to the zipper up her back. “It might stick a little, this bodice is, um, form-fitting. Just pull.”

Brock's fingers closed on the zipper and he slid it up her back. She definitely didn't imagine the brush of his knuckles against her bare skin, leaving a tingle that preceded the smooth glide of the zipper.

Her free hand pushed her boobs down so that it wouldn't be so difficult to get past that spot on her back, but he didn't seem to have a problem with it. When the zipper was all the way up to the back of her neck, she reached into the low-cut bodice and adjusted her boobs until everything was in the right place.

When she turned back towards Brock, he was watching her with an eyebrow raised and an amused look on his face. “What?”

“I didn't realize how much effort went into all of this.” His hand waved at her, seeming to encompass her dress and the long waves of hair she let fall down her back.

Her hands came up to rest on her hips as she looked up at him. “You've really never done the whole super-formal thing before?” That was a bit of a surprise.

“I just haven't really seen this side of it.” His gaze dropped from her face, moving over her form until she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, well, apparently married couples share a room, and that bathroom isn't nearly large enough for me to wrestle my boobs into place.” Darcy stepped towards him with her hands out. She took control of his bow tie, quickly tying it and giving it a couple quick tugs to straighten it. When she was satisfied with the overall look, she stepped back, surveying him, nodding in approval. “There. How do you not know how to tie a bow tie?

His eyes cut to her, one eyebrow raising, and she snickered. “Nevermind. But my husband will never wear a clip-on. Do you have the rings?”

He reached into his pocket and came out with matching gold wedding bands, handing one to her. She took it and slipped it onto her left ring finger, looking at it. It was... Weird. Having a wedding band on her finger.

Shaking her head, she looked back up at him. “You know, this is probably the only time you'll ever hear me say I wish I had my vest, but I totally wish I had my vest. I feel practically naked.” They were basically guaranteed to have a firefight, Darcy only hoped she was up and out of the way before it happened. Brock got to wear his body armor, it was all zipped up under his white formal shirt. It gave him a little extra bulk, but the cut of his tuxedo helped.

And he did look good in his tuxedo. She took a second to appreciate just how good he looked. Hey, he'd totally been ogling her. When her eyes moved back up to his face, he was looking entirely too amused.

“Did you stash your laptop already?” Brock turned away from her, moving over to the mirror to adjust his jacket or whatever, and she turned back towards the bed where her thigh holster and gun were waiting.

“Yup.” She lifted the skirt of her dress and started getting the holster settled into place. She'd tested it already, the floaty-ness of the skirt completely concealed the firearm, just as long as no one started feeling up her legs.

“I'm gonna be pretty close tonight.”

Darcy checked her gun before dropping her skirt into place. She looked up at him, eyebrows raised in question. “Close?”

“You're younger than me, it's going to be assumed I married you for...” His lips slowly turned up into an almost-predatory smile. “One reason.”

She sighed, nodding once, her eyes rolling back. Of course. “Right. I'm all set, boss.”

His gun was stashed away with her laptop, as were both of their earpieces. “Let me... Come here.” He lifted a hand and beckoned to her.

She looked at him for a second before moving over to where he was still standing by the mirror. What the hell was this all about?

Grasping her hips, he turned her and pulled her back against his body. The body armor made his torso uncomfortably rigid against her back as he tucked her against him, his hand slipping forward across her belly. The other hand dropped to her thigh, pushing through the skirt until he came out with her gun. “Too much skirt.”

“Yeah, but any less and it wouldn't hang right over the gun.” She held out her hand, palm up, and he pressed the gun against it. It took a second before he let her go, though, and she could feel the heat from his body against her, her skin practically tingling under his touch.

His hand slipped away from her, though, and she leaned down to re-holster her weapon. Then it was her turn to check herself in the mirror, making sure everything was tucked where it needed to be, and she turned to Brock. “Let's do this.”

He preceded her across the room, opening the door for her. She waited for him outside in the hall, and he let the door swing shut before falling in step behind her, his hand coming around her to rest on her hip. Well, he wasn't kidding about being close.

The house was enormous. They were officially there for a private art auction, for which Darcy had secured tickets, as well as space in one of the guest rooms for the night. The owner of the house had something tucked away underneath it that SHIELD wanted them to recover. Blueprints of some sort of weapon system. There was already an agent inside who'd infiltrated the staff, he was the one who'd helped Darcy stash her backpack away and had provided them with a complete layout of the place.

There were people milling about downstairs where the auction was, and Brock held out his free hand for Darcy to take so he could assist her down the stairs. She could already see it, the perusal of her person and the approving looks sent Brock's way. It was enough to make her skin crawl. She did look good, black dress with an almost dangerous amount of cleavage and a long, full skirt with a pair of blue heels peeking out from under the hem, but... “I'm not a trophy,” she muttered through gritted teeth, a smile frozen on her face. His fingers squeezed into her hip, but he didn't say anything.

At the bottom of the stairs, she wrapped her arm around his waist and let him guide her through the room.

The first hour or so was spent mingling and looking at the various art pieces for display through the sprawling first storey of the beautiful house. Brock did stay close, keeping one or both hands on her person at all times. Mostly on her hips or waist, but a couple of times across her ass, a lingering touch that sent a thrill of heat through her. Well, if she had to be stuck doing this, she might as well enjoy it.

Eventually, though, their agent on the inside “accidentally” dropped a tray full of champagne glasses. That was the signal. Darcy caught Brock's hand and led him into the section that had been designated for the staff, and into a small coatroom near an outside door.

There was a moment of worry as she scanned the small room, leaving Brock to close and secure the door behind her. But her backpack was still there. She unzipped it and pulled out Brock's guns, letting him take them and strap them on. His tuxedo jacket came off, his sleeves rolled up past his elbows, and if that wasn't a distracting sight...

But she made herself stay focused. Earpieces came next, first his, then hers. The laptop was still in there, but she didn't want to set it up yet, so she picked up the bag and slung it over her shoulder.

He held up his hand for her silence, and she stood there and watched him ease the door open, peering out the crack before opening it fully and stepping out into the hall. She followed him along the hall to the end, opening up the door and slipping outside into a private garden.

A stream bubbled quietly through the garden, masking the sound of Darcy's heels as they stole through the grass towards the cellar that contained the hidden door that would admit them down to the basement.

Feedback filled Darcy's earpiece as he pulled the door open, and she yanked it off her head. Brock was reacting similarly, they must have tripped a “silent” alarm.

Darcy froze, looking at him as he shut the door behind them. “What do we do?” She had no doubt he would come up with a solution that wouldn't involve heavy gunfire, it was too early for that yet.

He looked around the room, dark eyes efficiently assessing the situation. There was a host of clean, but empty, shelves, and a couple of large wooden crates off to one side that would be ideal for setting up her laptop on. But there was no doubt that security would be with them, soon. “Put your bag down on the other side of that box,” he directed, pointing to one of the crates.

She immediately did as he directed, putting her earpiece down beside it. His went into his pocket as she turned back to face him, eyebrows up as she waited for further instruction.

He was smirking a little. “Bend over the box. I need you to trust me right now.”

She absolutely trusted him to keep her alive, that was his actual job. Without question, she turned back towards the large crate bending forward to rest her forearms across the top.

The sound of his zipper had her glancing over her shoulder, eyes wide in surprise. He was actually undoing his pants.

“Turn around,” he told her firmly, and she turned back to face forward. His hands were pulling her skirt up around her hips, and she felt him pressing himself up against her ass. “Make some noise, Darcy. You're enjoying yourself.”

He was pushing his hips against her, leaving no doubt as to what she was supposed to be doing while she was enjoying herself so much. She let her head fall forward, hair coming down to curtain her face, and started making the porniest noises she could. She moaned, she cried out, she yelled encouraging things like, “Oh god,” and, “Yes,” and, “More.” Bracing herself against the crate, she moved back against him as his fingers dug into her hips.

It felt ridiculous. Like a smutty comedy hour or something. But then it... didn't. Brock was having... a physical reaction. She could feel him getting hard as he moved against her, could feel the slide of his actual cock against the cleft of her ass. She was wearing a thong- VPL is a huge no-no in a formal dress- and he felt almost hot enough to brand her as their skin slid together.

He was getting slick, his passage between her cheeks eased by pre-come. She hadn't ever imagined something like this would feel as good as it did, and the noises she was making started getting a little more heartfelt.

Darcy heard the door open, probably wouldn't have if she'd actually been all caught up in the heat of the moment like she was supposed to be. Brock didn't stop, so neither did she. Every nerve ending was taut, her concentration back at the door that was apparently still open, whoever was there just watching what was going on. She trusted the drape of her skirt to conceal her weapon, hoped it was dim enough inside the cellarthat whoever was at the door wouldn't be able to make out the straps of Brock's weapons harness against the black of his waistcoat.

She felt his hand lift off her hip and come down directly on her bare ass with a sharp crack, and her squeal was entirely real as the sudden heat spread over her skin.

His other hand slid around underneath her, skimming across her skin until his fingers slid over her panties, pressing in to find her clit. It was... it was... so wrong. So hot . Her body was responding to him, somehow the tension from the presence of the undoubtedly armed security guy at the door transferred into that kind of tension. She could feel herself getting wet, the satin of her panties getting slick under his touch.

Brock leaned forward, his chest pressing against her back as his finger rubbed a quick tempo over her clit. “I'm going for your gun,” he breathed. “Pretend you're coming.”

Much more of this and it wasn't going to be pretend. “Like that,” she babbled, the need in her voice entirely real. “Just like that. Right- that's- oh- oh- oh !”

His other hand dropped to her thigh and he had the gun out and was away from her in a flash, the muffled noise of the dendrotoxin leaving the chamber filling the small room. She tried to catch her breath, looking over her shoulder as Brock reached out and snagged the falling security guard, pulling him inside and easing the door shut behind him.

“We don't have long,” he told her, reaching for his pants to pull them back into place.

Her body was screaming with need. Another ten seconds of that and she would have come. She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she reached down over the crate to grab her backpack and pull it up beside her.

“They'll be close,” he urged, sounding more than a little impatient.

“I know .” And maybe she was snapping a little more than normal, too. Frustration was almost thick enough to touch, and not just hers. This mission couldn't be over fast enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't a new chapter. _This is Why Do We Pretend_ moved over to where it's supposed to go so that the next chapter can follow after this one. Things maaaaaaaaaaaay get resolved next chapter. Maybe.  
>  This was a song prompt from [Tumblr](http://pinkpandoracornwrites.tumblr.com/), The Devil Inside by INXS.


	4. Chapter 4

Darcy felt like she was two seconds from snapping. Her muscles felt taut, strained, and she couldn't stop tapping her palm against the table. And if Brock fucking said anything about it...

He seemed to know better, though, or maybe he was just caught up in his own tension. His dark eyes were fixed on her hand and he was taking deep, even breaths.

They were waiting for extraction. After which Darcy was probably going to go off-base and make some admittedly poor life choices.

She knew that Brock had a Level 2 habit, he'd go and flex his muscles- _don't look at his arms, don't look at his arms... fuck_ \- at someone in admin and play up his daring exploits, and get a blowjob out of the deal. And that seemed to work for him.

To be fair, his arms were  _really_ nice. They were currently folded on the table in front of him, the muscles of his upper arms straining against the sleeves of his t-shirt. Inappropriate thoughts about licking them kept floating through her mind, and she really needed to just look away, but...

_Fuck_ he had nice arms. Like, really, really nice arms. She was staring, but she couldn't really bring herself to care.

“Did you just lick your lips while you're eye-fucking me?” The question was all  _kinds_ of amused, but there was a weight to it too, heavy, expectant.

Her gaze slid up to his face to see his eyes dark and having an awfully hard time staying away from the cleavage her floaty dress revealed.  _Speaking of eye-fucking_ ... “I don't know, can you drag your eyes out of my boobs long enough to find out?”

Brock smirked at that and made a credible effort to sustain eye-contact. “They should be here soon.”

“Yeah.” Darcy shook her head, reaching for her coffee cup. It was room-temperature at best, but she took a sip anyway. The sooner the extraction team got there, the better, really. “I thought you were joking about having to fuck for a mission.”

“It worked, didn't it?”

“Yeah.” Oh, it worked alright. In a manner of speaking.

Suddenly, he put his hand up to his earpiece, nodding like they could see him. Whatever, it wasn't like she could give him shit for that, she did the same thing sometimes. “Yeah, got it.” His eyes dipped down to her chest again. “Extraction team's here.”

Darcy reached under the scarred wooden table and grabbed her backpack from between her legs. It had her laptop, and Brock's body armor and weapons in it. “Are we walking far?”

He shook his head, sliding out of the booth and pulling himself to a standing position. It was impossible  _not_ to stare at the play of his muscles when he stretched his arms up over his head. “Not far.”

“Good. My feet are killing me.” She was still in last night's shoes, too, and her feet were aching from being in heels for so long. She pulled a bill out of the front of her backpack and left it under the edge of the plate her creamer had come on for a tip before getting out of the booth as well.

Brock lifted an eyebrow. “Want me to carry you?”

There was all kinds of invitation in his voice, and her belly twisted, hot and low. “I got this.” Because that would probably end up with her doing something inappropriate like licking him. That was probably still a bad idea. For whatever reason. Not that she could actually _think_ of one right at the moment...

His hand fell into the small of her back as she pulled the backpack up to her shoulder. “I'll carry that if you want.”

She felt a little torn. Her laptop was her baby, but she knew how he felt about his guns. And the extra weight with how sore her feet were... His hand slipped to her ass as she pulled the backpack back off her shoulders, and her eyebrows went up as she turned back to look at him. “Seriously?”

The bag was pulled over his own shoulder. He looked completely unapologetic, too. “Your dress is slippery, my weight distribution changed when I took your bag.” His hand was gone from her person, but it was almost like she could still feel the heat from it through her dress. She couldn't shed the very visceral memory of his hand impacting against her bare ass...

“Yeah, and don't think I didn't see right through that.” She led the way through the diner, smiling as the waitress at the front bade them goodbye before Darcy pushed open the door to let them out in the night.

It was dark, slightly chilly. Her heels crunched across the gravel of the parking lot as they walked. Brock was beside her, and she let him lead the way to wherever they were going. He was the one who knew where the quinjet was after all. Her ear piece was in her backpack too, she'd practically ripped it out of her ear as soon as they'd gotten clear of the mansion. She was just _so_ ready to be done.

She wrapped her arms around herself rubbing her hands along them briskly to encourage some heat to them. It would probably be nice and warm on the quinjet, but that didn't help on the way there. “Why didn't I grab your jacket?” Well, she knew the answer to that. Extra bulk while she was trying to move quickly and quietly. Still, though, it would have been nice, you know, after the fact.

“You cold? 'Cause I know something that would help.” Seriously, his voice was practically dripping with innuendo.

Not trusting herself not to say something like, 'Would you please fuck me against the side of that store over there?' she didn't say anything.

Thankfully it wasn't too far to go through the town to a nearby park, deserted in the dark. The quinjet was cloaked, but it was easy to see the grass flattened down in a suspicious shape, even in just the street lights. The ramp lowered as they walked towards it, the lit-up inside slowly coming into view. There was someone waiting in the back for them, someone all geared up in a tac suit, weapon casually out just in case they weren't who they were supposed to be.

But the ramp touched the grass, and Darcy lifted up her feet behind her to take up her heels as she walked up into the aircraft. She didn't even have to look at Brock to know he was smirking. “Next time, you try keeping heels on for...” She didn't even want to know what time it was, or how long they'd been out. The sad truth was that it was probably going to be too late to go anywhere by the time they got back to the Triskelion.

Which left the gym. And probably her vibrator. Which wasn't _nearly_ what she wanted.

Shoes dangling from one hand, she took a seat along the wall. She didn't bother with the harness as she settled into the padded seat, shooting a look at tac suit guy, daring him to say something about it.

He didn't, though, as soon as the ramp was back up, he went through to sit in the cockpit beside whoever was flying.

Brock, to no one's surprise- at least not to Darcy's- came and lowered himself in the seat beside her. He also didn't bother with a harness, angled slightly towards her and slouched back with his legs spread a little as they stretched out in front of him.

She did her level best to ignore him, despite the fact that she could practically feel the heat from his knee where it was just beside hers. He was still wearing his dark suit pants, dusty at the knees where he'd knelt on the ground to shoot people.

After just a second his hand came up to slide over her shoulder and through her hair to close over the back of her neck. The pressure of his fingers seemed to almost scald her, and then he was moving them, working them against the taut muscles.

“Tense?” His tone was almost mocking, but he didn't stop, and she kinda just wanted to melt against him and moan a lot.

“Fuck yourself,” she muttered, closing her eyes and slumping forward a little as his hand worked against her. She didn't actually want him to stop...

“Don't you mean _yourself_?”

The question hung between them in the air, thick and heavy. “Fraternization.” SHIELD was pretty strict about that sort of thing, or so she'd been told. You know, more than once.

“Doesn't apply to us. They just assume all elite two-person teams are fucking, and then it's don't ask, don't tell.” His knee nudged against hers. “Trust me, I'll give you exactly what you need.”

She took in a deep, steadying breath. “You think you know what I need?”

His fingers tightened around the base of her neck, just a little.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He knows exactly what she needs.  
> Elite two-person teams of note: Clint/Nat, Coulson/May. Not really relevant, but my mind went off on a tangent while I was writing this.


	5. Chapter 5

Debriefing was even more onerous than usual, if only because Darcy was practically jumping out of her skin. Brock had kept at least one hand on her on the entire quinjet ride back. The way he'd touched her had been mostly innocent. _Mostly_.

She didn't say anything to him as they left the office, headed down the gray hall towards the elevator that would take them up to their bunks. He seemed content to stay quiet too, although she could practically _feel_ the weight of his intense brown eyes on her.

He didn't hit the button for his floor on the elevator, not that Darcy was really surprised. He stood at her side, facing her, so close that she could feel the heat coming off of his body through his t-shirt. His arms were at his sides, but there was a tightness to his shoulders, a tension that she was all too familiar with.

She kept her gaze locked on the heavy steel elevator doors. People got on the elevator, got off. Even at this hour there were people up and moving about the base. The two of them ended up at the side of her elevator, her shoulder pressing against his sternum. He slipped the backpack from her shoulder and slung it over his own, his fingers lingering along where the dress revealed her smooth skin, a warm tingle trailing in his wake.

It seemed like forever before they reached the floor that housed Darcy's bunk, but eventually it was her turn to step off the elevator. Brock shadowed her. He had to, of course, he was carrying her backpack. That was the only reason.

She might have been in a little bit of denial.

She pressed her thumb against the Identipad beside her door, waiting for it to glow green and the accompanying buzz and click of the lock. Her hand fell heavily on the doorknob, turning it and pushing their way into the tiny space.

Brock closed the door behind him before sliding the backpack down to rest gently on top of the small table. His eyes were dark, heavy on her.

She dropped her shoes on the floor. “I need to have a shower.” That was a little more breathless than she'd intended, but...

“Me too.” Still he made no move to leave the room. Maybe he meant her shower? There really wasn't room for both of them...

There was a hot twist low in her belly, but she purposely turned away from him, taking a minute to steady her voice. You know, hopefully. “Can you unzip me? If you're not leaving, you might as well make yourself useful.” Yup. Voice was steady. Bonus points for _days_.

“Can't think of any other use for me?” She could hear the fucking smirk in his voice.

Darcy reached back and lifted her hair up, gathering it into a pseudo-ponytail over one of her shoulders. Her eyes fluttered shut as she felt his fingertips skimming along her skin lightly enough to raise goosebumps. A shiver climbed her spine, and she heard his amused huff in response.

He didn't say anything, though, and he soon found the zipper and pulled it slowly down. His knuckles grazed against her back as he went, then down over the curve of her ass. He sucked in a sharp breath as the waistband of her thong was revealed but he didn't say anything.

Letting go of her hair, she hooked her fingers under the straps of her dress and pulled them down her arms, letting the whole thing sort of float to the floor. Lifting her feet, she delicately stepped out of the pool of fabric, headed towards the tiny bathroom.

She heard Brock moving through her bunk after her. She reached into the shower stall and turned on the water, habit letting her turn the knob to just the right mix of hot and cold. The water started cascading down immediately, hot and inviting, and she practically sighed at the sight of it.

“You can't get into the shower like that,” came the murmur from behind her as a pair of hands settled low on her hips. His fingers slid over her skin for a moment before slipping under the sides of her thong. With the backs of his fingers dragging against her skin, he pulled the scrap of fabric slowly down over the curve of her ass and down along her thighs as low as he could reach before letting it go. They dropped to the floor.

Darcy stepped into the shower, closing her eyes and tilting her head back as she faced the almost-scalding spray. She grabbed blindly for the shower curtain, pulling it shut behind her.

She wasn't entirely surprised to hear the plastic rings holding the curtain sliding along the rail just a couple of seconds later. Nor was she shocked when a very solid naked body slid in behind her, shifting her so that she had to put her hands up on the wall to catch herself as the water fell directly onto her face. She ducked her head down so that it rained against the top of her head instead, dripping down from her eyelashes. There was _barely_ enough room for both of them, but he seemed determined to make it work. Although... “How the fuck am I supposed to wash my hair with you in here?”

She felt his fingers combing slowly through her thick hair. “Put your head down.” Her forehead fell against the cool plastic shower surround, eyes still closed.

She heard Brock squeeze some shampoo into his hands, and then his fingers were massaging her scalp, working the shampoo into her hair. And he actually... Washed her hair. It felt amazing, it was so relaxing. Relaxing and... strangely stimulating at the same time. “Better?” he asked as he combed his fingers through her hair to rinse it.

“Mm.” She reached for where the bath poof was suction cupped to the wall, holding out her other hand so he would hand her the bottle of bodywash. She washed everything she could reach easily, then held the bath poof over her should for him to take. And he actually did, washing her back before rinsing the thing out and putting it back on the wall.

“Well, I'm done,” Darcy announced, although she made no move to get out of the shower.

He was pressed up against her back, and his arm came out between her and the shower curtain, effectively blocking her inside the shower stall with him. “I don't think so.” His voice was low, heavy with suggestion. “Hands on the wall.”

She lifted her hands and rested her palms against the wall, head down so that the water cascaded down over the back over her neck and down between where Brock's back was warm against her own.

His other hand found her hip, sliding up to her waist before skating down over the top of her thigh. It moved inwards until it slipped between her legs, cupping her center. She shifted her feet apart on the roughly-textured shower floor so he had a bit more room. Her clit was practically tingling with how close he was to it. He didn't move again, though, his hand completely still against her delicate flesh.

“I thought you said you'd give me what I need.” It came out more of a moan than the sharp quip she'd intended, so she took a deep breath and tried again. “So if you don't know how, you need to move so I can get out.”

His teeth closed around the juncture where her neck met her shoulder, hard enough to really feel. Another moan slipped out, this one a lot more intentional. His finger moved too, pressing up until it was pushing into her slick pussy. He didn't linger there, though, his digit slipped back out and up over the eager bead of nerves. Darcy let out a long sigh, the sound disappearing under the spatter of falling water.

He hadn't been lying, apparently he knew exactly what she needed. Two fingers circled quickly over her clit as his mouth worked along her neck and shoulder, his stubble rasping against her skin in a way she'd probably feel later.

Her fingers dug into the unyielding plastic, head tilted to the side, eyes closed. Her pleasure spiraled in tighter and tighter as his fingers slipped faster and faster. He shifted behind her, moving away for just a second, and then his cock was sliding up and down along the cleft of her ass.

Her breath escaped in a long hiss when she realized what he was doing. “Fuck,” she whispered, moving back against him the same way she had much earlier that night.

“I'm not stopping,” Brock muttered darkly, his lips moving against the outer curve of her ear.

“God,” was a long, broken moan. “Brock...”

“That's it.” His mouth was moving against the line of her shoulder again.

Her world drew in tighter and tighter until it stopped for just a moment. Her orgasm rolled over her in a wave of heat, making her yell loudly enough that she'd be grateful later for soundproofed rooms.

Darcy was dimly aware of him swearing behind her, and then he stiffened, his teeth closing over her shoulder again as a sudden spurt of heat hit her lower back.

She relaxed back against him, one hand moving up behind his neck as his hand slid up from between her legs to rest low on her belly, holding her against him. “Well,” she said after a bit. “Don't have to go far to clean up.”

He chuckled, his lips moving against her ear. “I wanted to wait, but... Fuck, Darcy.”

“Mmhmm.” Yeah. Yeah, that sentiment was definitely understood. “We should probably get out before we drain all of Virginia's hot water.”

Brock pulled back a little bit, letting the spray of water run down between them. His hands moved over her back, rinsing her off before he pulled the shower curtain back and stepped out onto the fluffy green bathmat.

She turned the water off and took the towel he handed to her, halfheartedly rubbing it over her head before drying herself off. She looked up to see that he was still standing in her tiny bathroom, watching her with an expectant expression like he was waiting for her. “You taking off?”

“No.” He pulled the towel from her and rested it on the side of the small counter that housed the sink, grabbing her hand and pulling her gently out of the bathroom towards her bed. He laid down first, his back pressed against the wall, and tugged until she lay down beside him, her back pressed along his chest. “Now when I wake up in the morning and need to fuck again, you're right here.”

“Wow.” Darcy shook her head even as she nestled back against him. “You are _such_ a charmer.” She pulled the comforter up over both of them, letting herself be lulled by the feel of him breathing against her back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, can I just say... This went in a COMPLETELY different direction than I thought it would. Like, for reals. SO different. I was all, "Yeah, foreplay in the shower, then she bend over with her hands on the sink and that thing." Nope.


	6. Chapter 6

 Downtime was... Well, it happened from time to time. It was supposed to give them time to recuperate and hone their skills or whatever. But it meant they hung around the Triskelion doing not a whole lot.

The food was pretty good, though, there was a gigantic food court type of cafeteria thing and it was _always_ open. Most meals were eaten there, because while they _could_ leave the base, it just seemed like too much effort and hassle.

Darcy was sitting at one of the tables, sort of off to the side and tucked in a corner. Her laptop was open on the table in from of her, and she made a face as she stared at her screen. She looked up with a grateful smile as Brock set a cup of coffee down beside her computer before slinging himself easily into the chair across from her. “Thanks.”

“Mmhmm.” He watched her for a second or two, lounging back in his chair as though he wasn't ready to jump up and kill someone on a second's notice. “What's the face?”

“You know how Coulson got himself snatched?” She watched him nod before gesturing to her screen. Not that he could actually see it from the other side of the table. “Well, Hand's apparently really fucking up the search efforts for it. I've been asked if we'll help out.” She paused, sighing. “Unofficially.”

“Really.” His eyebrow lifted and he sat straight up, resting his own coffee down on the table in front of him. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I think they more want you than they want me, 'cause they already have a hacker or whatever, but a friend of mine from before all of this SHIELD shit asked me if I would do her a solid. Or, I mean...” She glanced up at him for a second. “We would.”

“What do you think?” And he wasn't just humoring her, the serious expression on his face suggested he was actually asking her for her opinion.

Darcy let out a long sigh, resting one elbow on the table and resting her jaw against it. The opposite hand brought her coffee up to her mouth and she took a long drink before answering. “I don't know.” The mug went carefully back on the table. “I really don't know, Brock. I kinda want to, 'cause Skye's my buddy, and Coulson's the one who got me, you know, out of rotating assignment hell and into an actual job.”

“Yeah?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and lowering his head a little as he looked straight at her. “Your call.”

She looked at him for another long moment, then turned her attention back to the computer. Her fingers danced over the keys for a second, and then she sent the email off with a flourish. “I told her her we're in.” She sighed and took another drink of the coffee. It was pretty fucking awesome that he'd perfected the way she liked her coffee. “The only problem is going to be getting there.”

He shrugged, a smirk turning up one corner of his mouth. “That's not a problem. Just get me an address.”

And apparently really not a problem, because less than 24 hours later they were meeting out in the middle of nowhere that was even more middle of nowherey than Puente Antiguo had been. Darcy had her fucking body armor on, but apparently Skye had actually wanted _her_. Because Skye had some sort of bracelet of fuck-you-up around her wrist that made it so that she actually couldn't use a computer. And _that_ was pretty fucked up.

But Brock and his sniper rifle were welcome too. Darcy raised her eyebrows and looked over at at her partner, a grin curving up her mouth. “Does this mean we're actually going to be hanging out in the same general vicinity? Man, I am going to drive you _insane_. Too bad you can't braid and snipe at the same time.”

An eyebrow arched up from behind his dark sunglasses, and his head moved a little like he was giving her a long look over. He leaned down so close that she could feel his breath moving over her ear and murmured, “You're gonna take that off, and then we'll see who drives who insane.”

Darcy rolled her eyes, but she gratefully zipped off the body armor and tossed it in the open back seat of their SUV. She took a deep breath and stretched out her back. It was nice to feel her lungs fully expanding now that her boobs weren't being squashed into her rib cage. “Where do you want us?”

“The hill northwest of the town, you'll be able to get some cover.” May was wearing sunglasses which pretty closely matched Brock's. Maybe it was a field agent thing, she could talk to someone about getting her own pair. Because unless there was a _lot_ of cover, she was going to be squinting like mad to see her screen.

Darcy went back to the car, sitting in passenger seat and leaving the door open. She pulled out her laptop and set it on her lap, pushing the screen up and tapping her finger against the side of it until it finished loading up. In just a couple seconds, she called, “I have driving directions.” She had an aerial view of the area up on her screen, complete with nifty grid.

Brock sauntered over and braced his forearm against the top of the door opening, leaning in to look at it. “That'll work.”

She turned to look up at him. “Drive me insane?” Her eyebrows went up, faintly challenging. “I thought you needed two hands to hold your big gun.”

He was smirking again and he pushed away from the vehicle. “I'll call when we're in place,” he told May as he walked around to his side, his boots crunching over the dirt and rocks.

Darcy pulled her door closed, offering a little wave to Skye as Brock backed up and made a wide turn to the left.

He looked over at her for a second before turning his attention back to where they were going. “Won't need my hands until you're done with your computer, and if you click that pen of yours...”

“What, you won't talk to me for a week?” She gave a big, dramatic sigh. “I don't know how I could live with that, Brock. I mean, I might have to cry myself to sleep tonight.”

“Keep pushing, see what happens.” There was a heated promise in his voice. She knew he wasn't about to make idle threats, but it was so very tempting to see how far she could push him. Probably not a good idea on a mission, though.

At least not until after they were done.

Driving around to where they needed to be didn't take long. Climbing the fucking hill was a little more time intensive. Darcy had her backpack slung over her shoulder, Brock was carrying the case with his sniper rifle in it. And as much as she'd been giving him shit, it really was a pretty big gun.

“Aren't you glad I make you run inclines on the treadmill?” he asked when they were about halfway up, and she flipped him off. Although she did have to admit she was a little more prepared to tackle this fucking hill than she had been before she'd started working for SHIELD.

At last, though, they climbed up the hill. Brock radioed May to let her know that they were in place while Darcy tried to find a good place to set up her laptop where she wouldn't be fighting too much glare.

She settled herself cross-legged on the ground, her laptop open on top of the backpack in front of her so she had to lean forward a little bit.

Something black was coming into her field of vision. “Hey, what-” Sunglasses. Brock was lowering his sunglasses over her face, and suddenly she could actually see. “Thanks.” They were a little big on her, but they worked.

“I'll be taking them back when I'm up.” He was kneeling behind her,

“I figured. This shouldn't take too long.” She tapped the knuckle of her thumb absently against her laptop as she stared down at her screen. His hand was moving her hair off of her neck. She glanced up for a moment, squinting thoughtfully a little. “Don't tell me you learned how to braid.”

“Not quite,” came the amused-sounding answer.

She opened her mouth to ask what the hell he was doing then, but his mouth moved against the nape of her neck. “Oh,” came out all kinds of breathy.

“Will this do?” His lips brushed against her skin as he spoke, heat tingling up to make the fine hair at the back of her neck stand up. The sharp stubble prickled a little against her neck, and his hand was resting against her hip, fingers kneading a little.

“Yeah.” Her thumb stopped hitting against the laptop. Yeah, that definitely qualified as physical distraction.

It helped, the velvet heat of his mouth as it worked against her. Darcy bypassed their security systems fairly easily, and since they had a camera on the room that Coulson was in, it wasn't too hard to figure out where he actually was. She lifted her hand to her earpiece to activate it. “Hey, guys. You should be all set. Coulson's in the big building with the overhang at the front.” Her voice caught a little on the last word as Brock's teeth scraped across the back of her neck, sending a tiny jolt of pleasure through her. She lifted her hand to swat at his legs, missing completely.

“Everything okay?” Skye asked, and Darcy swatted back at the man behind her again.

“Yeah. Fine.” She took her finger off the earpiece. “Don't you have a gun to assemble or something?”

She felt him chuckle, the puffs of air against her skin, as he pulled back. His hands dropped down into her peripheral vision and he pulled the sunglasses off her nose. She heard the rifle assembly noises behind her, and then Brock moved a little way down the top of the hill, easing himself down onto his stomach and aiming it down the hill to the little compound or whatever? It almost looked like it could be some kind of little resort thing. “You gonna watch my back?”

She looked over at her, her eyes fastening on the back of the black body armor he wore. “Why? It's not doing anything.” He looked over, one eyebrow raised, and she grinned at him.

Her gun came out of her backpack, and she turned until she was looking the way they'd just come up. She kept one eye on her screen. They didn't really expect anything to be coming up there, but it was better to be ready _just in case_.

His sniper rifle was _loud_. Darcy couldn't help but jump the first time it went off, even with the specialized ear plug in her non-earpiece-ear. It went off again and again, and at last she heard, “They've got him. Looks a bit rough, but he'll live.”

“Oh, good.” Darcy closed her laptop and reached behind her for her backpack to put it away. The earplug followed, tucked in the front pocket, and she pushed herself to her feet. She bent over to get it, and a pair of hands settled against her hips. “What are you doing?”

He pressed his pelvis against her ass, shifting back and forth a little. She hadn't really had any sort of adrenaline/tension things, but apparently he _had_ , she could feel his erection rubbing against her. “Letting you know what's waiting for you when we get to the Bus.

The heat that had risen while he'd been 'distracting' her had died down, but she could feel a flicker of it again from the promise in his voice. “You really think we're going to have enough privacy for all of that?”

“I'm sure we'll manage.” Brock was kneading her hips, and when she stood up he moved forward until her back was pressed against his chest. “I'd be more worried about the noise if I were you, but maybe I can find something to put in your mouth.” His hand slipped forward over her abdomen, down between her legs until his middle finger was pressing the seam of her jeans in against her. A slight shift and he was rubbing directly over her clit.

“Brock, we have to go or we'll miss the rendezvous.” Her voice was just a little breathier than normal, and she mentally admonished herself for rocking into his touch.

“Two minutes. Takes a while to get down the hill.” His other hand was moving along her waistband, unbuttoning her jeans and sliding the zipper down.

“Someone is going to look up here and see us.” Probably not with their naked eyes, but someone down there would have binoculars, or a gun with a scope on it.

He slipped her jeans and her panties down over her hips. “Then get on your knees.”

Against her rapidly dwindling better judgment, Darcy dropped down to her knees on the pine-needle-strewn ground, and she felt him kneeling behind her, heard the metal clank of his belt buckle. He took ahold of her hips, his hands seeming hot against her bare skin.

Darcy leaned forward, dropping her forearms to the ground, arching her back so her ass stuck out a little more. He made an appreciative noise, and she felt one finger sliding along her slit until he was rubbing over her clit. “Next time you push me like that, I'm gonna tie you down and take it out on your ass.”

Her belly gave a hot twist at that, her eyes closing as she dropped her forehead to rest against her arm. “It's too bad you don't follow through on your promises.”

She felt him still, and then his hand fell away from her only to connect with her ass in a ringing smack. She groaned, jolting forward.

“If we had more time...” came Brock's thick mutter from behind her. She felt the head of his cock against her entrance, and she pushed back against him until he was buried deep in her pussy. He immediately started moving in her, a rapid pace that had their skin slapping together. He was touching her again, the fingers of one hand digging into her hip, the other circling over her clit in time to his sharp thrusts.

He was right, though, it wasn't very long before he was stiffening behind her, buried as deep as he could get. Darcy was close, but not quite there, and his fingers stayed strumming over her clit. Close, so close...

The palm of his hand glanced off the side of her ass, and the sharp sting jolted her forward. The next smack had her clenching around him, her orgasm shattering with a long cry.

Almost immediately he was moving away, she felt the air suddenly cool against her skin. “Wish I had a picture of that,” he said as he pulled his pants back up over his lean hips.

She pushed herself to her feet, shooting a look over her shoulder as she got her own clothing tucked back into place. He just smirked.

Getting down the hill took less time than getting up, and the SUV was still waiting for them. There was an easy silence in the vehicle as Brock drove them back to the rendezvous location, and up _onto_ the ramp of the Bus.

“Thanks for the assist,” May said as Darcy climbed out of the SUV, letting the door swing shut behind her. She left her backpack inside, it wasn't like it was going anywhere. “Coulson wants to talk to you in his office.”

“Upstairs, I'm assuming.” Brock pointed to the tight spiral staircase set off to one side, and May nodded.

Darcy preceded him over to it, her sneakers clanging loudly against it as she hustled up as quickly as she could without, you know, smacking herself in the face with her boobs. She felt her ass get pinched. “Brock, I swear to god...”

He just chuckled, but he did keep his hands to himself.

Skye was waiting for them inside a large loungy looking space, standing by a second spiral staircase that assumedly led up to Coulson's office. Her eyes widened a little as Darcy got closer, and she reached out and snagged a pine needle from her hair, showing it to her. “Are you guys...”

“Skye?” came May's voice from behind them. “Don't ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the tiniest bit of smut. From [Tumblr](http://pinkpandorafrog.tumblr.com/) prompt:  
> thebutterscotchslut:  
> Darcy + Rumlow - Hot to the Touch/Grace Potter


	7. Chapter 7

Darcy pulled the earpiece out of her ear and let it drop on her laptop's black keys as she slumped back against the wall. She let out a long sigh. This mission had definitely not gone according to plan. Things had gotten a little... Complicated. She was supposed to be tucked up somewhere safe in the empty warehouse across from where Brock was supposed to be infiltrating, but she'd kinda... relocated. With him yelling her her ear the entire time about staying put.

She slumped back, letting the back of her head fall gently against the wall behind her. She'd relocated to save his ass, too. He'd gone out of her range, and she _knew_ there were guys back there. Of course, there were guys where she ended up too, as proven by the unconscious body that the super helpful SHIELD clean up team had just hauled out of her immediate proximity. But she was fine, and Brock was fine, and that's what was important.

“Hey.” The clipped greeting had her pulling her eyes open and looking up into a face of suppressed fury. Yeah, apparently Brock was still a little bit upset about the whole thing. “Thought I told you to stay put.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Thought I told you I wasn't gonna.” Yeah, apparently she wasn't in the mood for his shit, either. Because there was a pretty good chance that if she _hadn't_ moved, he'd actually be dead. “Two little words, they're not that hard to say. You can have a couple minutes to practice first if you want.” She paused for a second. “'Thank you,' is what you should be practicing right now.”

He stared down at her for a long moment, she could see the muscle twitching in the corner of his jaw. Without another word he turned and walked away, leaving her in the little corner of the room she'd tucked herself into. She knew that wasn't the end of it, they were going to end up having some words later. Just they were apparently words that he didn't want to have in front of the rest of SHIELD.

Darcy had a lot of time on the quinjet ride back to base for her anger to seethe in a slow-burning rage. Brock kept looking over at her from his own seat at the back of the aircraft, eyes dark, that muscle in his jaw twitching every now and again.

He stood stiffly beside her as they debriefed, actual military attention, which he _never_ did. It came as no surprise that, as soon as they left the office, he fell in step right beside her. Their rooms were on different floors, but he didn't press the button for his when they got onto the elevator. Well, that was just fine with her. She probably would have followed him just so that she could say what she wanted to say.

She drummed her fingers against her upper arm on the way up. She could _feel_ Brock's eyes on her, and she glared over her shoulder at him, _daring_ him to say something about her fidgeting. Elevator or not, they could do this right the fuck now.

He didn't speak, though, his anger weighted down in cold silence.

He shadowed her along the hall to her door, looming beside her as she pressed her thumb to the Indentipad. The briefest of moments stretched on into forever as she waited it to accept her, the green glow and the buzz-click of the lock.

She turned the doorknob, shoved it open before stalking inside. Her backpack was placed very carefully on the floor beside the head of the bed, and then she turned to look up at Brock with her hands on her hips.

His arms were folded across his chest as he waited for the door to latch itself again. “I fucking _told_ you to stay put.” His voice was quiet in the stillness of her room, so quiet that she almost had to strain to hear him. She'd been expecting something a lot louder.

“Yeah, and I told you I wasn't going to.” Her eyes narrowed into a sharp glare. “Did you... Did you practice at all? Because if I _hadn't_ moved, you'd probably be dead right now. You. Right now. Lying in a pool of your own blood or whatever while fucking Pierce made arrangements with your next of kin? You were getting out of range, Brock, I told you that!”

He stared at her for a moment, fingers busy on the zipper of his body armor. He peeled it off, let it drop down beside her backpack. “When I give you an order, I expect you to follow it.”

“Yeah, follow this.” She lifted her hand up between them, middle finger extended upwards. “I'm not one of your little soldiers. And maybe if _you_ had stayed where I told you to instead of wandering off on your own like Dora the Explorer or whatever, I would have been able to stay put too.” That's what was really bothering her. He was apparently pissed at her for moving, when he didn't stay on the clear path she'd given him right up to his objective.

Darcy realized he was moving- slow, measured steps towards her. There wasn't a whole lot of room in her bunk, and he was between her and... The rest of it. The door was behind him, the bathroom was behind him. She made herself stand there. What was the worst he was going to do, loom at her and make angry faces?

It was impossible not to be a little intimidated as he neared. The guy kinda did scary for a living, it was probably a skill he had listed on his resume somewhere. But she stayed put, tilting her head back to continue eye contact. “What? You're gonna... what, look menacing at me? Maybe that works on some people, but I've seen too much shit.”

Brock loomed over her, drawing himself up to his full height. “Fucking listen!” His deep growl sent a chill down her spine.

She squared her shoulders and looked straight back at him, heart thudding in her ears. “You fucking listen! I'm the one who sees exactly what's going on over there, not just the three fucking feet in front of you. And when you decide to go skipping off to smell the fucking flowers, _someone_ has to make sure you're not marching your happy ass into a deathtrap. Which you were, by the way.” She purposely let her eyes slide over him. “You're welcome.”

He surged into her, fingers biting into her upper arm, the other hand clamped over her mouth. Her shoulders knocked painfully against the wall. Her eyes were wide as she stared up at him, his own eyes too dark, too close. “You're going to shut the fuck up, and you're going to listen.”

The scent Darcy had come to think of as _his_ , gun oil with sharp, smoky base, invaded her nostrils. His heat pressed in on her as he held her bodily against the wall, and she became very aware of the hard bulge against her hip. She was still keyed up from the mission, so taut that one small tap would probably break her. Stewing in the quinjet hadn't really helped that out at all. She couldn't help but shift against him a little, rolling her hips in an unmistakable invitation.

A very familiar heat entered his eyes. “That how you wanna play it?” He leaned in until his breath was ghosting across her ear. “You wanna be sweet? Make me forget all of this ever happened?”

Oh, she could show him sweet. He was still wearing the black fingerless gloves he always wore to work in, biting him wouldn't do much good. She drew in her elbow tight to her side, pausing for the briefest of moments before letting it fly out into his solar plexus.

Brock grunted, his grip loosening enough that she could slip away. She moved away from the wall, making sure to face him as she slowly backed towards the bathroom. She hadn't hit him hard enough to do much more than startle him, and he was already turning around after her. “That's what I thought.”

There wasn't enough time to get anywhere, he moved too fast. She didn't even have time to blink before he was on her again. He gripped her wrists tightly, bringing them around to press into the small of her back as he pulled her against him. “Always knew you liked it rough.”

“Fuck you.” Darcy twisted and pulled against him, not like it did much good. He was holding her tightly enough to leave imprints of his fingers against her skin. It was... It was an outlet. It didn't feel good so much as it just _felt_ , a dizzying rush that was exactly what she needed.

“Yeah, we'll get there. When _I_ say,” he practically growled.

She twisted and tugged, but there was no way she was getting away from him. “Let me go!”

He turned her, stepping into her until she moved back. Her thighs hit the edge of the table, and he kept leaning into her until she had to lie back. His grip shifted until both wrists were caught in one hand. “Don't think so. You're gonna stay exactly where I want you to.”

His free hand closed over the waist of her jeans, fumbling for a second with the button before pulling it apart and yanking her zipper down.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Darcy shrieked. Her nipples were stiff, aching points, rasping against the fabric of her bra as she struggled against him.

A predatory smile moved across his face as his dark gaze fell to where her jeans were pulling open at the front. “Giving you what you've been _begging_ for.” His grip shifted again, and she managed to get a hand free. She swung it around in front of her.

Her palm stung, an angry shade of red that matched the print on his cheek. He worked his jaw for a second, and she swore she could see the muscle twitching again. Before she could even blink he flipped her onto her stomach. His fingertips scraped across the small of her back as he gripped the waist of her jeans, yanking them down sharply enough that it burned.

His fingers circled her wrists like a vice, pinning her to the table. A sharp _crack_ filled the small room as he brought his free hand down against the side of her ass. Sensation flooded through her, the sting blurring into something sharper, sweeter. “I tried to be nice, Darcy.”

“Fuck you,” she gritted out, unable to draw a full breath with her breasts mashed up against the table.

Brock chuckled, a dark sound that crawled along her spine and made her pussy clench around nothing. She heard it, heard the rip of his zipper, the rustle of his pants. The head of his cock nudged against her, slipping through the slick heat of her arousal. She twisted her hips, drawing another sharp swat at the top of her thigh. “Stay still!” he yelled, bringing his hand down against the full curve of her ass again with another sharp _crack_.

“Fuck you!”

His hips were heavy against hers, she'd have a line across them from the edge of the table. She felt him again, the swollen head of his cock, and then the thick, full feeling as he rammed himself into her. He let out a very pleased-sounding noise as his pelvis slapped against her ass.

Every time she twisted, every time she pulled against him it just drew his cock _deeper_ somehow. She bucked back against him as he fucked her, almost managing to knock him off a couple of times. Each sharp snap of his hips knocked her back against the table. He was rough, hard, riding her like he was trying to break the table.

Her fingernails dug into her palms, the sharp sting only adding to the sensations whirling through her. He moved down a little, up over her somehow, and suddenly every brutal thrust ran right over that one magic spot.

Darcy screamed, she writhed, she tried to get him off, tried to pull him deeper. In the end all that mattered was the rhythmic slap of flesh on flesh, the endless heat as his cock battered into her. She clenched around him again and again, riding high on on adrenaline and endorphins.

At last he started to stutter. He pumped into her one last time before stiffened, buried as deep as he could get as his cock twitched inside her. He sort of collapsed on top of her, and she let out a protesting squeak. “You're heavy!”

“Sorry.” Brock chuckled, easing back and letting go.

She let her arms fall to the table, flexing her hands a little at the soreness in her wrists. “You know I'm right.” Her voice was a rasp, mouth dry, voice used up.

He didn't say anything, but his touch was oddly gentle as it smoothed down over the side of her hip. That was probably the closest thing she was going to get to agreement. She'd take it. For now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This... happened.

**Author's Note:**

> One-shot collection!! I really, really enjoyed a lot of the shortfics I did on the Tumblr and I was all, "I wanna make this a thing!" So this is the set-up for the thing. Some of them will probably be expanded here because I like the premise, and otherwise just... Lots o' Rumlow. Things will be smutty. Rumlow will be toppy. Good times.


End file.
